


Gardens

by BubblegumCannibal



Series: Commissions and Gifts [6]
Category: Warframe
Genre: Alien Sex, Casual Sex, F/M, NSFW, PWP, Porn With Plot, Porn Without Plot, Sex, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-07-18 00:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblegumCannibal/pseuds/BubblegumCannibal
Summary: Nidus really admires the fact that Mag loves gardens and would like to present one to her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Is it really pwp if there's light plot? lmao

                It’s warm in here, like the lights were attuned specifically for the plants. Vines creep along the walls like old, tired tendrils, wrapped around pottery and draped across a couple trees that held signs messily written across holo-screens in scribbled Corpus—[ _POISON. NO TOUCH._ ] There seems to be a smoother translation, Orokin perhaps, directly below, didn’t make Mag feel any more comfortable. All of those little flowers, blossoming around her, all of different colors and shapes sent a flutter to her heart. She had always loved Oberon’s garden, but feared Sayrn’s. She was sure breathing in anything outside the room was going to kill one of them, tenno and pets without ever once stepping past the room… but this one didn’t belong to either of them, too many maggots rolling in the soil.

                There’s a noise that startles her, the sound of doors sliding open with a soft metallic click. He steps out like a predator hunting for prey, slightly hunched forward and stare vacant. The infestation tip-toes from the room in a silence almost deafening as he putters about, watering his plants with a tuneless hum. Had Nidus not seen her? Had he been that immersed into his garden that the world around him was gone?

                Mag could only scoff at that thought. Too much to do and too much to be focused on to simply zone out as hard as he had. She almost continued to walk around him, but instead stayed to watch him work. A shower here and new arrangements of his flowers there before squatting before a bush filled with red roses? Maybe? Could they even grow here in the middle of space?

                “ _Kapppep,_ ” Nidus doesn’t think twice before snapping the stem of one of red ones, clipping the thorns before holding it out to her, “Take. It’s yours.”

                “No, no. I don’t… I mean… Thank you.” Say no and it comes off weird, might hurt his feelings. Accept and one gains a rarity, a smile soft that crinkles the edges of his vibrant pastel eyes. It’s beautiful to see, the almost timid shift and way he plays with his fingers as he watches quietly as she brings the rose to her nose. “I love it.”

                “There is more.” His voice, deep and ragged, sends chills down her body. Rarely does Nidus speak, and when he does it a few words and then nothing else. Short, choppy, to the point. It’s pleasing, truthfully. It matches that of his tawny features and alien features. Makes Mag wish he’d spoke a little more, even if his translator was a busted mess. “Come inside. Please?” He holds out his hand to her, talons sharp and infestation along his skin almost glowing in the dim hall light.

                Does she take it, without question, her hand tiny in comparison to his and his grip ever so light as he guides her into the room he came from. She could feel it, the light brush of his fingers pressing into the padded palm of her hand, searching almost, to see if he’d get a response from her cybernetics. Despite what he was and the infection that lied within him, she expected mold and terror throughout his little space, then again, he was nothing like Sayrn and nowhere near creative as Oberon. Though the light was dim, the room dark and lights a gentle blue and lavender, she can’t help but admire the work within this room. Bushes, round and green, and trees, all tall and purple. Mag could hear the chittering of the maggots wriggling through the soil with happy chirps before they poked their small pink heads out and dipped back into the darkness.

                “I…” Nidus pauses for a moment, his brows knitting, “I made you a garden.”

                Felt odd seeing him out of his suit, dressed as down as one could get when their legs couldn’t fit into conventional trousers. Yet it’s interesting, the way he saunters is watchful and indolent, his hips sway with a dip as if he had been trying to mimic human movements… Well, he’s _trying,_ is the key word here. The constant thought in the back of Mag’s head keeps telling her that a man whose knees bend the opposite way will definitely change their everything, wouldn’t it? And yet, here she is, examining him like he would a plant. Though his shirt was baggy, she could see the dark marring on his skin, circles and lines imprinted into him like old burns. They looked like Corpus markings, just… infected _,_ **_glowing_** blue. They crept up his arms in thin black lines up and under the cloth of his sleeve then blossomed into messy indentations on the sides of his neck, that shimmer of blue pulsing brighter and brighter as they continue forward.

                He never let’s go of her hand, gently leading her into the next room first. Then she can hear it, the trickle of a fountain flowing into a pond, maybe? All around her, within this makeshift garden, sits tendrils of white, glowing with blues and pinks at the orb tip. Flowers and trees grace the pathways heavily, leaving the light to pass through the creases, the shimmer of whatever plumed from the flesh like garden making it almost magical.

                “Perfected to heal in a fight,” Nidus speaks, “made to comfort us and harm enemies.”

                Mag turns to face him, golden hues shining up at the taller man, “What made you want to make this for me?”

                “You said you like them.”

                She chewed on her bottom lip, looking around the room. It looked like those abandoned gardens she found in those deep forgotten spaces on earth. It was alive in here, the lighting brighter than the previous halls and corridors that led in. Faux sunshine and gentle heat against her skin and she could imagine being there again. No Grineer. No Ostrons. No enemies. Just sunshine and comfort. Mag spins on her heels, cheeks darkening from heat, but her heart racing. All for her because she liked gardens… but it was specific as if he had been studying her from afar.

                A step, hesitant but determined, she hurries back to Nidus, throwing her arms around his neck and her lips pressed to his scarred cheek. Another kiss comes, then another, and the last lingering just beneath the bottom of his lip. “Oh, fuck it.” Her voice quiet but grip strong to pull him down to her level. Feet flat on the floor, she pulls him further with another step back, into the grass, hoping for her foot to eventually hit one of the stone benches she spotted on the way in.

                _Fuck it._ It kept repeating in her head over and over like an unwanted mantra trying to coax her into something. She’s wanted this—she’s wanted him for far too long, but maybe things shouldn’t have moved so quickly. Then again, it was too late for that. Shirts already strewn about the garden, trousers just the same, was she really against this? Never. Mag had wanted him to touch her for months but could never find the words to explain how she felt. This was good enough.

                He’s nervous, however. Love does not come new to him, but this one does. It brings a throb to his chest, a mutual feeling that’s left him lost in words around her. He remembers what it’s like being among the Corpus, the daunting gaze amongst the people. They may have been afraid of Nidus, but he was more afraid of them, but he learned from them. Learned _with_ them. They don’t _love_ per se. Some do, rare yes, but the rest are arranged and set with one another until a child comes and then… and then… _nothing._ The rare ones who do love in secret but when alone love incandescently. It’s alluring to watch them smile and hold one another until it’s never given back… But _she_ gives back. _Mag_ loves him back… right?

                She’s not afraid of him—not afraid of the way he looks or of the corruption that lingers in his body. Mag doesn’t recall at the sight of him. She doesn’t flinch or push away at the sight of him exposed and vulnerable… Instead, she pushes her way into his lap, his cock rigid between brown thighs and a finger flicking across the ridged top. Mag doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, the moment lasting an eternity in Nidus’ head building worry in his chest.

                “Something wrong?”

                She shakes her head, scooting closer to him, bare chest pressed against his for just a moment, “Not at all. Something harmless I’ll kick myself for later, but nothing is wrong at—” Her breath hitches and her head falls into the crook of his neck. Each gentle ease in brings a breathy groan against him, the feeling of his length rolling sparks down her spine with a light smile on her lips. She can feel his hands travel down her back, sharp talons gripping at her cheeks with a scrape.

                Nidus yanks the smaller woman closer to him, seating her fully into his lap as he gives a little lift to push her back to the stone of the bench. Mag shudders from the cool stone, arching herself to get comfortable and wrap her legs taut around his waist, enjoying that foreign feeling within her. He’s deep, yet it’s such an otherworldly feeling. It’s not like being with any other _human_. He may hold his features, but his body is just as alien as the next. His chest covered in etched in brands, laced with those same glowing patterns down his torso and onto his legs. He’s beautiful, he _feels_ beautiful.

                Mag is caught up, her back arching from the harsh thrusts of the man above, his hands still wandering, learning each inch of her skin, counting the goosebumps that rise from the coolness of the room. She keeps her legs haphazardly strewn, one finally caught in his equally lazy grip and the other wrapped around his hip, dragging him closer, demanding him deeper with wordless cries.

                It’s like music to him, every little whimper as he drags her back to him, giving her that sweetened tilt that forces such a song from her throat, pressing against her sensitive spot with anything swivel that could keep her singing so divine. All she needed was a chorus to back her up, perhaps a harp for dramatic purposes to keep her harmonizing… or maybe nothing at all? Mayhaps there was nothing to add to how perfect her vocals were.  The way she echoed around him— the way her moans broke with a rasp as his hips sped up, giving her breasts that rhythmic, hypnotic bounce. If this was how a branch of love was supposed to feel, he wanted more of it. The chase of a climax was worth it to watch her glow.

                He’s above her now, eyes locked as he plows deeper and deeper, riding on that moan of hers growing louder as he hits that sweet spot again and again. Mindlessly, he keeps a hand just a bit over her warm bud, thumb circling her clit slowly to stagger movements. He can feel her hips almost thrashing to match his, wanting to cruise out her orgasm, yet no avail. It seizes her in a series of waves, chills then heat, silence, and finally a loud and stunted yelp that shoves his hand away.

                Bliss tingles at her nerves and wiggles at the aggressive thrusts from the other. He had to be close— _had to be._ And here he sat, still pounding away at her with a grit in his teeth and that cascading sense of weariness that drug him down into a state of euphoria. Nidus grunts, bending closer to her and catching her lips with another kiss that tasted just as saccharine as the first.

                He’s not as loud as she is, granted his growl of a moan disappears into their kiss with a few callous thrusts empty into her, his body tensing up for a moment as he finally came in more _silent_ noise. Ragged, he kisses her once again, slowly pulling from her, watching as Mag flinched from the final exit, her body sensitive and exhausted.

                And yet, Nidus wonders, “Kick yourself? Why?”

                And after a while, Mag simply chuckles, “No lube. Always need lube. We’ll have it next time. We got… lucky this time.”

                At least there would be a next time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to note:  
> Kapppek - Partner.  
> Ppipek - Friend.
> 
> thank god for corpus translations.
> 
> Also no, these stories are not in any order nor are they in any format of similarity. different situations and different stories told in both first and third pov. things just happen. it's all just chaptered together. ENJOY!

                _“DAH! TENNO SKOOM!”_

                I should have been paying attention, but instead I got lost. I had never been inside of a Grineer headquarters at the time. They were, to say the least, massive. There was no cover in these rooms, just open space and slight machinery. Warhounds roamed freely, a few of them curled up beside what could only be seen as their owners and here I was, in the middle of the stand still. I’m low, a stray bullet had passed through my side and left me trickling a path that anyone could see, yet alas, there’s a little luck on my side—there are rafters here and I’ve been tucked up here for a moment.

                Dizzy now, I call chime for help, someone to circle back and find me, I’m greeted with static. Not even Ordis can hear my cries… I have to get down eventually unless I want to die up here.

                I tell myself to move, rolling onto my side and almost falling off the skinny beam, but there I go, shoving myself off willingly instead and hitting the hard floor with a groan. But they are alerted now. They all know I’m here, guns at the ready and hounds snarling as the chase me down. Stars, I am low on reserves. No ammo, no energy, barely any strength to keep my legs moving beneath me.

                I fucked up.

                                I _really_ fucked up.

                I should have listened and stuck close rather than wandering off to follow my own curiosity. I did this to myself, ruining my first mission because I wanted to prove I could do I on my own… I lied to myself. I’m severely underpowered for this and facing my fear as my death closes in on me. My bullets feel as if they just skimmed the ugly bastards, some felt more like blanks. I could feel the recoil in my arms, smell the gunpowder through my helmet, and yet nothing I did could save me.

                “Ordis,” I cried, “do you read me? _Ordis!_ ”

                Still nothing. Faint static rung back to me as I rounded another corner, hounds still hot on my heels, the metal crunch of their maw snapping behind me sent a chill up my spine. My helmet flashed red, a screen flickering in the corner demanding that I take cover to heal, a soft beeping to alert me that my suit had been compromised. It’s too late for that. If this was how I was going to die, I didn’t want people to know of it being that I ran and was eventually eaten by rabid space dogs.

                And he came with a stomp. I remember seeing the curls of tendrils raising out of the floor, some grabbing enemies, others impaling them where they stood. There was blood—on the walls, the ceilings, _puddles_ on the floor, and the only thing I remember most was that piercing screech… then warmth.

                Was I really there or was it just a fever dream? I saw colors of fiery red dancing around me in tendrils of black and purple. I could hear a squeaking, however could never tell exactly what it was. But I remember him, tall and dark. The arms unfurling at his chest, translucent and skeletal, clawing and tearing down everything around him with a bestial roar that lingered in my head for hours—or was it days?

                A blink and I was surrounded by bright, white lights. Voices sat muffled, but familiar; a few angry, while the others annoyed. I remember those voices pointed all at me as I sat up.

                “You could have gotten yourself killed! This is why we stick to the mission!”

                “Don’t be so harsh. You were the same way when you started, she’s going to have the same problems.” Oberon was always gentle; his voice is always one I could pick out.

                Octavia, however, was one who seemed to change when she was angry. I still can’t pick her voice out of a line-up, but I could only remember her scolding me harder than he did. “We told you to stick with us _because_ of how dangerous it was. Why didn’t you?”

                “I got lost!”

                “Then why not call for us?”

“No response.” Not Octavia. Not Oberon. Not Trinity in the distance… but him, the savior that I briefly saw swooping in like a fairy tale knight. He lumbered in slowly, his helm in his hand, and all I saw were those markings so deep in his skin, his eyes different, a gentle pastel of blue and yellow. Striking, was it, yes, but it was something that resonated in me forever.

                “What do you mean?” Oberon’s head tilted, ushering Octavia out. “Go on, explain.”

                “Blocked transmission.” He continued, “Grineer knew. _Trap._ ” He then looked over to me, eyes glowing, “I’m sorry, _ppiepk._ Did not want things to get worse.”

                I still don’t know why he apologized back then. He saved me. I would have been dead if not for him all those years ago. There would have been nothing but a torn suit and spaced corpse if not for him. Every so often I think about it— if he had not come, that is. Would the dogs have eaten me? Would the Grineer spend no expense of killing me? Would I become a test subject to Tyl Regor’s research? What would have happened?

                I shouldn’t question it. Nidus did his best to cover me and get me safely to extraction and had done as such since then. It’s almost a blessing to wake up beside him, my knight in shining armor. I’d do anything to repay him one day. For now, I’ll accept this moment of peace, seeing him at this moment, relaxed and safe. It’s what I need most. It’s what he needs. I’ll ensure it stays this way.


	3. Jealousy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's literal poison, isn't it, that sickness of jealousy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the commissioner strikes again. enjoy. :)

Jealousy is the infestation that poisons a frame the moment it hits. It’s like a festering trojan horse ready to shut down everything you stand for to replace your emotions with sadness and guilt as if every last movement had become your fault and then some. It aches in your heart and lies to your brain about what should and shouldn’t be right… and yet, all of it still stands with one thing that interlocks it all—a name to blame.

For Loki, he knew his name as a trigger, Mag. His operator was the same and hers was Sage. The same face that had haunted them for years with a smile as if nothing was wrong while his heart melted away into the empty abyss seen as the void. He was too much of a coward to admit it when they were young and dumb, to spill his heart onto the floor and then some to win over her affection, but here some fetid abomination won her first.

No, not _fetid,_ nor an _abomination._ He doesn’t mean that.

Mayhaps it’s the pain in his chest that brings thoughts like _that._ He doesn’t hate him— _Nidus,_ that is, or whatever other name he had chosen to be called out of his suit. Can’t remember what that was nor does Loki really care. It’s more of an… annoyance, really. When missions come, Nidus is never without her at his side, still holding that smile as if there was never a care in the world while things stood at the opposite. Nidus would tower her, hands at her cheeks, cooing at her like some small child… and he hated it… He hated every ounce of seeing it.

He hated seeing it now…

There’s something most people have to filter out their impulses, Loki’s however is non-existent. He does it to do it. Often do they end in cataclysm, but normally than not do they end in success. Made him one of the best to slither through places unseen while his clones trickled around places messing with grunt soldiers and equipment. He was good, but apparently not good enough. And here he stood, tossing out a clone with a wiggle of his fingers then latching on to it, quietly swapping places, just to be greeted with an unwanted kiss to the corner of his eye.

“Oh, Noodles. You’re so gentlemanly. Hold me and tell me I’m pretty.”

Nidus doesn’t respond. Instead he rolls his eyes and bows his head to Mag, stepping off the platform with a wave to follow. But with a smile, Loki spins to face his friend, pushing away all that negativity that filled his chest, yet there is no smile in return… only irritation burning away in honey brown eyes.

“What?” There’s a nervous chuckle there from Loki, backing up the ramp of the Liset, “You’re not mad he didn’t hold me? I am. I’m very hurt—”

“Stop,” her words come curt, sharp, “This is the fourth time you’ve done that _this week_ , what is your damage?”

“No damage. Having a bit of fun before we kick things off.”

She blocks the rest of the ramp the best her tiny frame can do, hands spread between them to keep him placed in one spot, “Well this shit’s not funny. It’s getting annoying.”

Does he own up to it… the jokes? Out of impulse he’s gotten in the way. Out of impulse he’s disrupted their after-hours together. Out of impulse he’s become the bane of their unfortunate annoyance… but does he really admit to why? Does he tell her the truth about what his heart has craved for so long? Would she believe it after the disrupts he’s done as of late?

That ache swells up in his chest again…

“You’ve been just watching us for the past few weeks,” she continues, “but when we say something to you—you pretend it was just a clone. A clone? Really? Bullshit. That might fly past him, but I can tell the difference between you and it.”

“It’s always a clone--”

“It’s **_never_** a clone… What do you want from me? From _us?_ ”

 It’s now or never. Do you let that poison froth away internally until it kills you or do you own up to it? He could let it continue to bubble away in his soul, causing the current storm to crash against his mentality in an uncomfortable effervescence tacked up under some bullshit mental gymnastics or… Or he could confess… Loki could stand here and pour his heart onto the dirty ramp of her liset and hope that something happens…

But she’s not going to leave Nidus… he knows that.

He shudders a sigh, staring down at feet before glancing back up at her. How does he start? _I love you?_ No, too forward. _I’ve **always** loved you?_ Even worse. And yet, he licks his lips, “Nothin’ from either of you. Just messing with my best friend… my _oldest_ friend…”

“Well, your _eldest_ friend is getting tired of your shit.”

Mag turns from him after that and that impulse factor never kicks in. He simply grabs her before she’s all the way up the ramp, eyes still down to that one little dirt spec on the ramp. And his throat is dry, mouth full of cotton, and heart lodged up in his throat. “Matteo… I mean _me_ … I…” He huffs, “When it was just you and I—Sage and Matteo, we were inseparable… but now I guess we’re nothing now, huh?”

“Wh-where is this coming from?”

He shakes his head, “Donno. Don’t care. P-point is… is that…” Loki chews at his lip for a moment, “We, as one, loved you. Everything you did. Every word you said, we loved it. And I, _then_ , couldn’t own up to it. Tried to fight for it—lost to a man who can talk to infected fish.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“Good. You shouldn’t.” _Because it’s been like this for years._ “That’s why I never spoke up about it.” Every confession fell on deaf ears most of the time. When they were young he was open about how he loved her. Told her every morning and every night, but it went blindly through one ear and out the other. Had she taken him as a sibling? Probably… but he had always seen her as more. Striking and powerful. Always left him in a cloud of mental bliss that he had shoved himself into because he _thought_ he had a chance…

…Apparently not.

That jealousy thing clouds your head with all sorts of “what if’s” that it taints you… _Ruins_ you… And what would you be able to do about it? Find someone else? Admit that your love means something weird and you’ve kept it for far too long because logically—it makes sense.

It’s a thought that Loki simply pushes away.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “I’ll tell Octavia to take my place… Sorry…”

Logic doesn’t work with impulse. Gets in the way of things. Makes work messy to handle and it’s never that much fun in the end… Though it feels like his heard is shattering, he’ll be fine… Or that’s the hope.


	4. Lingerie Attempt # 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> she tried to get sexy and it went over his head. poor gal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kote - love.  
> tepy peaupipuk - it's beautiful.
> 
> now you've learned something new today. enjoy.
> 
> we edit nothing LIKE MEN.

What gets the Corpus… riled? It’s been buzzing around in her head for so long that she’s been mindlessly modeling different bits of clothing in the mirror _over_ her suit. Nothing seemed to stand out. The Corpus came across so… _bland._ Blues and grays. **_Blues. And. Grays._** Only thing nice about their articles of clothing was the scrolling, flashing text that read who-knows-what, but none of this was what she needed. Perhaps she needed to wrap herself in credits and see what happens. Then again, Nidus was never someone like that. Ex-Corpus, yes, but just a figment of their corruption and greed trying to build something they couldn’t control… So maybe things that excite the Corpus simply don’t do the same for Nidus.

Mag sits at the edge of her bed in a huff, lips curled downward and her feet tapping against the floor anxiously with a soft click—Click? Oh, yes. Just that quickly she had forgotten she was still in her suit, wearing a slightly loose fitting bra that held some weird glow, along with a set of matching panties that sat on her like tiny shorts… _Tiny_ being the key word, they were just a bit too small. How did people seduce lovers like this?

Perhaps they don’t try and dress up frames for the casual sake of it all.

She lays back, exhausted, a little shift and she can feel the suit around her body morph away into nothing, leaving just the staple of her frame in as just a simple helmet beside her and the rest standing idle in its case. At least the underwear fit a bit more now—sans the bra, that is.

She can hear the door of her room open then click close, but she makes move to hide herself or greet whomever. Instead, she simply lifts her hand in a lazy wave and lets it drop back to the mattress. No harm, no foul—at least she gave a half assed hello.

“You should cover. You won’t be cold, ppiepk.”

Lazily, Mag opens her eyes to search the room. Up and around gives her nothing, but at the foot of her bed stands Nidus with his head tilted and eyes scanning over her haphazardly. She frowns, doesn’t look as if the sparkle of her lingerie has kicked him into overdrive. Instead, he seems more fascinated by it, trailing the edges of the lace over her hips with a sharp nail.

“You’re back early. I was just…” Not trying on new things for _you_. She bites her lip, “Welcome back.”

“Warlord needed me. Came back to help…”

“To help? Since when have the Warlords needed help?”

He’s quiet, still pricking at her skin with his talons, “Relay reconstruction. Not enough hands.”

Mag frowns for a moment, “I thought we had enough. There are seven clans working on the new relay, is that not helping?”

Nidus shakes his head, “Enemies swarm to stop us. Must act quickly.” He pauses, “Are you cold?”

She shakes her head, still flat on the mattress, “No, not at all. Not with you here.”

Is there a wink in that? Should have been, but it also would have gone straight over his head. Flirtation, despite how bad she was at it, would have (and has) gone in one ear and out the other to where he responds with only a curious tilt like a captivated kubrow. He hunches for a moment, kneeling to the floor as he does so, still quietly observing her, still skimming her skin with the tips of his talons.

He plucks the elastic to her underwear, hearing it softly _thup_ against her skin, with a little smile, “I like this, _kote. Tepy peaupipuk._ ”

It surprises her, the kisses peppered at her legs, gradually making their way inward and gently upward. He doesn’t seem to care where he places them either. She can feel a couple scattered at her knees then the rest following up her thighs until he’s just over her hipbone, plucking at the elastic of her underwear once again. Mag sits up, expecting to see him still fully suited, but instead she got him dressed down as much as he could be. There’s still no convenience in someone who’s legs bend in two different areas… Still a topic she wants to question about, and yet it flutters away once he looks up. With all his exposed scars, he’s just as handsome as the first time she saw him— _all_ of him.

He’s just as big as he is in his suit. She had gotten used to waking up beside him still in his suit, covered in bruises and poorly bandaged wounds that seeing him in just “normal” clothing almost threw her off. It was different, but lovely to see.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks up again, “Did you not want me here?”

“I always want you here. You just surprised me.” Mag smiles, golden eyes almost glowing in the dim light, “I won’t get in your way.”

Such a temperate kiss he gives, slow and eager as he tugs at her bottom lip with a little noise as he pushes up to catch her. He always feels as if he _needs_ her. Every little touch. Every little kiss. Even the look in his eyes longed for her. And why? She wasn’t his first, she knew that, but **_why?_** Mag could never figure it out… But maybe she’s just looking too far into it. Maybe he’s simply just in love and this is just a new feeling for her… just maybe.

But it’s a thought that passes once she feels him again, right between her thighs and his tongue, long and flat, against the fabric of her panties. He wastes no time sliding her underwear off then goes back to nipping at sensitive skin, but he’s back at her again, tongue lapping away at the wetness of her bud, the tip of his tongue working away at her clit with ease and skill that it sent waves through her nerves, sending her back to the mattress.

He’s waiting here, listening for the start of her chorus to build from the shuddered breathing he could hear. Instead, she claws her dull fingers into his scalp, wriggling and grinding her hips against his mouth to feel him.  More, did her body crave of him, even when his tongue was _just enough._ However, she couldn’t bring herself ask him to stop, even when she almost wanted to _beg_ him to fuck her into the mattress. Her toes curl and her body squirms once she feels him readjust, bringing her legs over his shoulders for just a moment, tasting every ounce of her teetering excitement.

But then it creeps, the wetness of his tongue leaving that lingering tickle behind. Now, she knew his touch could be dangerous, but even from what little she’s learned? Even his very being healed every little thing it _lovingly_ touched. It was as if he was created specifically to be a walking weapon and in turn, he forced the opposite. Granted, yes, she knew what they were—what they were all _trained_ for, but he was supposed to be “worse” than that.

She gasps, feeling teeth at her breast and those sharp nails caressing the other. For once, he seems to not be in a rush. Timid, shockingly, and slow. Not that she’d complain, but she’s yet to get him past his suit. To her, no matter how much time he took easing himself to nip and lick at her, she’s never gotten him _exposed._ Never saw him past just the removal of a shirt or just the bare necessities she’s see him wear beneath his suit. He’s always covered, hiding the rest of him away from her until, at least, he _tips_ in.

That part is rarely hidden… no matter how strange it still looks to her at times. An interesting thing that is, his _cock_ that is. Not saying the magic of his tongue length was something she was against. It’s ungodly and needed, but nothing like his cock. Then again, that’s what you get when your opposite is purely just an alien. It’s strong but… scaled? No. Not scaled. Just _different._ And now the thought of it makes her want it even more. As he eases to kiss the under of her chin, she gives him a little push, urging him to his back before he makes another move. She’s swift, throws her leg over to show her nude ass to him once again. Mag could enjoy his tongue for a bit longer as long as she could give a little in return—before her body gives out from the nerves…

Mag’s mouth waters at the sight of Nidus free from his trousers. She can see the veins line up the edges of his unusual member, the girth of it all beckoning her. She runs her tongue up a side, feeling him shift beneath her, the ridges up the top and bottom feel odd under her tongue, but interesting at the same time. At the tip, the flare of it looks almost jagged, but still soft and powerful as she runs her lips across it. She can hear him groan, a rare, alluring sound to hear, once she takes him into her mouth. Her head bobs and she can feel him fidget, his hips lifting to meet the uneven movement.

Nidus pushes back this time, this time promptly lifting her and dropping her back to the mattress where he mounts over her, tawny cheeks flushed with color, but his scars burning blue from the underlying infection in his body. Mag blushes at the sight of him, heavy lidded and soft, that daunting glow shimmering life into his skin and warmth through his body, she can’t stop her hands from pulling him down for a proper kiss. It’s brief but welcomed. Not one that teases the soul, but one that begs for another and another.

Yet there, he presses in, listening to her cry out and hold him close. She can feel the size of him stretching her just right, the flared tip of his cock almost baring to be too much. Then again, at the rock of his hip, she can feel each ridge press into her. Every thrust begins to build, harder and harder, harsher and harsher, until he can hear her sing again in broken noises that makes his heart full. It’s what he wanted to hear— Mag’s concert of absolute perfection. But he wants her louder, calling out for him in stuttered noises as she’s done many times before. He wants to hear her ride out her intoxicated joy as he fucks her deeper, but in the same thought wants to watch her ride out her moment of culmination.

_“Fuck,”_ he hears her call, her voice almost squeaking from the word as she twisted in his grasp, her eyes rolling to match her movements. Mag grabs on to him, her body still writhing against his, but her moans even louder with each aggressive thrust.

She’s a gorgeous thing to observe, isn’t she? Nidus can’t help but watch her— _study_ her. The sight of her breasts bouncing with every twist and push into to her, watching her face contort and darken, feeling her hands squeeze at his wrists as she fell silent, body arching one final time before collapsing to the mattress. It’s, if he could call it as such, **magnificent.** And it pulls him down into the deep with her, the sublime tickle that lights him up with exhausted grunts as he buries away his moans in a final kiss has him stagger in movement before hunching over above her with sweat pouring from her back. It was needed— _this_ was needed.


	5. Warlords.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bosses are looking for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have a moment with loki and his boss.  
> like  
> the head boss.  
> or at least one of the many...

“Warlords are looking for you.”

Loki froze in his steps, his heart ceasing to beat, “For me? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

He doesn’t see Trinity’s face, simply watches her sit her helmet off to the side, “Pretty sure the boss would have found you a while ago if it had been him. Just look out or head to the council room. One of them should at least point you in the right direction.”

It’s the hope, at least, but nothing stops the guilt that eats away in his chest. What did the Warlords want with _him_? Loki wasn’t alone in his mischievous behavior, there were others like him, especially among the council. But as he made it through the dark halls of his clan, he could feel his heart dissolving away into the abyss of his stomach. And yet… what does he really have to fear? The Warlords are usually kind, despite their leader’s deposition.

Yet words still haunt him. Trinity had only heard that they were looking for him, but still didn’t know _who_ was looking for him. There had to be a reason why. Had he not been on his upkeep? His frame was clean. His weapons were superb. His ship? Well, with the Founder’s liset a noggle infested hell, he could get away with an army or eight… right?

“Matteo!” He heard a voice call out, “Come to me, Loki…” Feminine, was it, her voice lulling him gently as she sang his name. However, in the confines of the darkened clan hall. He could hear the water trickling around him from the fountains, but only see the trails of what he could only assume was the fabric of her suit.

Slowly did he creep up the stairs, his heart racing and mouth dry. There’s honest terror in his heart, but… at the top of the great hall’s stairs stood the Warlord searching for him. She’s dress in shades of red and orange, the whites and darks keeping her bright against the darkened background of the dim lights around them. She’s not but a head shorter than him, skin fair, flawless, but dark… but he doesn’t remember her name, just her codename: _Equinox._

“Did… did you need me?”

“Yes. Take a moment for me and gaze into the koi pond.” She never makes eye contact with him, only gestures. No explanation comes forth from her explaining why she needed him nor of what the emergence was for looking for him.

Instead he obeys and heads up the rest of the stairs, watching her with caution and unease. The sound of the fountains no longer brought him comfort, but fear… but that’s sitting under the idea that she’ll end up drowning him in the koi pond… He gives her one final glance and she remains unmoving, hands clasped before her waist and eyes focused blankly on nothing. He takes a breath and looks over the edge into the tiny man-made pond.

“What do you see?” He hears her again, “Be detailed.”

“Just the fish? Some algae?”

“No,” she’s right up against him now, her bosom pressed against his arm as she peers into the water with him, “in your heart, what do you see?”

In the water sit just a handful of fish. Two black koi, three white, and two orange. Two circle around pressed against each other as if the tiny tank held no room for either of them, but the space was vast. One started to intrude, sliding betwixt the two, but failing as they wiggled away in bubbling silence… but this couldn’t have been what she wanted to bring up.

“I just see fish,” he eventually replies, “that’s it.”

“No, you don’t.” Equinox begins to wander around the tank, her hands now tucked behind her back and head up, “I had this plan to entice you, my friend, but was talked out of it last second… but I know your ordeals better than you think I do.” She stops, leaning down for a moment to grab something then lifts back up. She scatters what looks to be fish food into the water, watching them approach her in an excited mass to gobble up what they could get then the rest around them.

“I don’t understand. What do Koi have to do with anything?”

“Generic message: There are more fish in the tank, but you won’t accept that.” She’s focused on him now, those uneven colored eyes still unbothered… or more so _annoyed._ “I was going to rip out the answer myself. Get inside your head and leave you babbling like a child on the floor.”

Loki swallows his spit with a struggle, “You can’t do that. You’re joking—”

“Am I? There are many things that I, as a _Warlord,_ cannot do to my people. I was… _harshly_ told to keep my hands to myself… Otherwise, I’d do this my way.” She scatters more food into the water, “Your peers are worried, but you won’t speak up. So you will. Here. With me. By choice. I have time.”

_Take your time._

In his heart, Loki can’t tell if he’s terrified or aroused. When she takes a seat on the bench across from him, his eyes study her. She crosses her legs and lounges back, staring as she did before—at nothing with nothing in her almost soulless gaze. It’s dangerous—borderline predatory. Her simple, quiet presence gives him the allure of _why_ she was chosen for her position. Simplistically: intimidation. Not once had she let up that ponderous feeling that ate him alive. It was overbearing… _all from one blank stare._

But what could have really sent this much worry through his branch that got the warlords so involved? Missions went flawless, if not a bit messy. He was a great fighter. Silent, quick, a natural born hunter. He was good, but if he had to toot his own horn, he was the best his team could have. Yes, a bit showboat-y, but who wasn’t when they knew of their own talents? It’s not like the team complained about his arrogance… and yet, someone complained about _something._

Loki hunches over the water, watching the fish dine in a loud bubbling mess of excitement and happiness while the other two fish swam quietly together away from the group. It’s a gentle sight to see, one of hope and beauty… Until it dawns on him.

Could it be Mag who’s gone to the bosses? She was the last to be angry with him. Knocked his heart with a sense of aloof emptiness that left him void and hurt. In just a short time he had seen his best friend for the first time in centuries and was left again, alone, in an instant. Her attention died from him soon after **_he_** came. **_HE_** came with a force that swept her off her feet and kept her suspended in the clouds. It’s not like there was anything about him that was breathtaking. Nidus was bizarre. An odd one that didn’t seem to pass the humanity scale as Vauban did. **_What did she see in him?_**

“Ah. There it is. Tell me about her. Just release everything and we’ll go from there.”

He staggers to the bench across from her, his heart throbbing at the thought of Mag— _Sage_ going to the higher ups against him. Had he stepped on her toes to the point that his very being disgusted her? Or was there more to it? He places his hand to his chest, shuddering a wounded sigh to hold back what tears threatened to fall.

“You’re not in trouble, my boy,” Equinox speaks again, “just talk to me.”

There’s so much he could say about her. Her very existence meant the world to him. She saved him from a dreaded loneliness that ate away at him when they were children. She was the one who blessed him with a smile every morning and used him as a pillow when they worked late into the night. He misses it, really. Misses that closeness they held that used to stand the test of time itself. He gave himself for her to survive when they were stranded at Ten Zero but refused to release her when reunited within their clan.

“I love her,” he says, “and she doesn’t love me… I guess that makes me a problem among the group?”

Equinox shakes her head, “Love is powerful, my sweet. You allowed it to taint within you and corrupt itself into a debilitating poison that crippled how you saw her. Your jealousy lingers into your work. Your team is worried because they saw something was wrong in you and wanted to ensure your wellbeing.” She sits up, “I can help you move on if you’re ready. Let your mind rest, but your love fall into nothing but a gentle care. But you have to allow me to do it when you’re mentally capable to do so.”

Loki sits there, thumbing the fabric of his syndana. Can poison really be cured after it’s festered in his soul for so long or is it too late for him? He chews on his lip for a moment.

“Help me. Please.”

**_Please._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the commissioner is having a LOT of fun with these scenarios. please comment and leave kudos. :O


	6. Liset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> word stopped me from finishing this several times and i'd like to file a complaint. >:(

“I demand your attention.”

Helm removed, Nidus gives his smaller partner a look. He watched as she unbuckled bits and parts of her suit, kicking aside the armor bits with a hungry fervor and a face he knew too well. “Unsure of what you mean. I always give you my full attention.”

“No. You. I want you and your attention.”

Nidus staggers back up the ramp and back inside of his liset. His brows raise and his mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes. It’s simply another comment of how he’s forever amazed at the strength of this small warrior.

“I need something to focus on,” she spoke again. “It’s been a hard week.”

_Hard_ was an understatement. **_Difficult to trudge through_** was a better explanation. Battles were fought. New enemies were gained… Friends were lost… The thought of it all wore down on her, anxiously awaiting the return of her beloved with high hopes he made it through peacefully when everything on her end sat chaotic and hellish.

She steps into the middle of the deck with a huff, pushing the taller man further up the ramp. There’s a stagger and a noise that pushes him free from his suit. Mag had made her way past him by then, pressing at a few buttons and watching the sight of the stars light up the inside of the liset as they made orbit.

“We could speak there. Why here?”

Mag shakes her head, “This is more my speed.” She clears her throat, “Ordis?”

There’s a glow that brightens the deck that brought a rather large cube-like cephalon. With a chirp, Ordis hovered within the middle of the space with curious tilt, the white-blue glow in the center almost blinking. “Is there anything Ordis can do for you, Operator?”

“I need you on rest for a little while. We can work manually.”

“That’s **idiotic _—_** _dangerous_ , Operator.”

“We’re within reach of the dojo. We’ll be fine. If we need you, we’ll wake you up.”

“Operator…?”

“Trust me… just don’t tell the boss.”

_Entering temporary rest mode in three… two…_

There’s a dangerous tilt to the old liset before it restabilizes itself. They can hear the clatter of the ayatans clattering against each other, the chime of metal on metal from a few loose weapons sliding against the floor, but Mag’s attention never turned away from her scarred lover who stood just an arm’s length away from him, slightly jittery from transference.

Nidus leans down to meet her forehead with a kiss, “Uncomfortable here, kote. No space.”

“Don’t worry about it then. I’m gonna be in your space anyway.” She grabs his hand, placing it on her breast with a squeeze and a smile. Yet before she gets to speak again, there’s a clunk heard from beneath the deck, the ramp hissing open to a new space beneath the ship. “See, we have space now.”

Before he could say another word, Mag had already scampered down the ramp into the bottom of the ship, wiggling herself out of her suit the best she could before kicking it off to the side as she disappeared into the back with a mischievous giggle. There’s no convincing her, Nidus knew that. Mag was a woman on a mission when she put her mind to it, and tonight _he_ just happened to be the only mission worth caring for.

And thus, he follows, leaving his frame idle above deck as he followed the bits of clothing left behind like messy breadcrumbs beckoning him.

The doors to his personal quarters open with a gentle noise. At first, there is no giddy lover seen. No sounds of her heartwarming laughter as she would often dance around the room awaiting him… yet there was a sight to foot propped up on the back of the sofa, that eventually led to a leg, and soon the welcoming sight of his nude lover, patiently awaiting what he was bound to deliver.

Just moments before, she prepared herself for him. Fingers deep to work up a salivating arousal and hunger for someone else. All that teasing and edging that left her shivering and anxious for his return—and there he was, in all of his peaceful, inquisitive nature, running those sharp fingers down her sensitive thighs.

He wastes no time with her, dragging the woman to the edge of the seat, nails digging into the soft of her flesh, as he adjusts to position himself comfortably. Mag’s breath hitches, her body arching as he presses into her slowly, inch by agonizing inch. The tenno squirms under the slow, steady thrusts of her beloved, her hands gripping a bit too tight at her small breasts as she tries to keep her composure.

Yet, by the Sentients above does she _whine._ Her body demands more, the way she writhes and wriggles free from his grip to push her hips down and match his thrusts, alas no avail. Though a gentle giant, Nidus kept a looming power over her, holding her into place, digging ever so deeper into her with those low humming growls that rumbled in her chest. Mag loved it—every ounce of it. Every ounce of his frustration with keeping her from getting away from him. Every ounce of his own arousal drawing him closer and closer.

Time and time again, Nidus would tell himself how much he adored watching her return to him, her frame slightly stained in dried blood and the focused glaze in her eyes that made her so damning. When she’s set for war, she’s a horrifying sight—gorgeous and deadly and it sets his heart a flutter. Yet in truth, it was this— _always this._ Watching her barriers fall apart and her light brown cheeks glow with heat.

Nidus angles himself, awkwardly pulling the smaller woman into his lap, still pushing into her, nails now digging into the skin of her hips, drawing a trickle of blood worth enough to dribble free from a papercut sized wound. But he was close and from how loud she was, he could only assume she was riding out an orgasm only drawn out from the irregular beats of his thrusts. She panted, her body spent and still welcoming every bit of him as she pulled him closer with peppered kisses at his jaw line and no words ever spoken.

And so he cums in slow, shuddered thrusts, his mouth eventually finding hers messily. Nevertheless, he’s content… or rather, content with her silent satisfaction. He lingers for a moment to listen to her breathing, taking solace in her odd idea of comfort and kisses her again.

Now to make it back to the HQ without anyone noticing.

**Author's Note:**

> commenting and rating always helps.  
> \- take note this is a work of commission and fiction. :p


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